A Lesson Learnt
by Graveygraves
Summary: Written for challenge 9 on CCOAC. Morgan is worried about Seaver after her first case with the team. He decides to offer some words of wisdom. Post-ep for 'What happens at home'  series 6 ep 10 . Rated T due to some language used.


**A lesson Learnt**

**This is my response to Challenge 9 on Chit Chat on Author****'****s Corner. **

**My Pairing ****–**** Morgan/Seaver**

**My Prompt ****–**** Are You Being Served?**

. . . . . . . . .

"**All men make mistakes, but only wise men learn from their mistakes.****"**

**Winston Churchill**

Slumped on the bar, Seaver's head felt as heavy as her mood. She fucked up – big time.

When Rossi and Hotch had approached her she had been overwhelmed. It was more than she had ever dreamed possible. 'Jump at the chance', didn't even beginning to describe her reaction, God, she practically cart wheeled into the room. Of course she had controlled herself, she wanted to present as calm and professional. Show the team that she admired, that she was ready. Oh how wrong she had been. They all made it look so easy.

Running her fingers through her long blonde hair she looked along the bar. _What did she have to do to get a drink in this place?_ She'd practically danced on the bar naked for the first bottle, and yet again the bar tender had disappeared.

"Are you being served?"

Seaver jumped, not recognising the deep, baritone voice behind her. Spinning round on the stool she came face to face with SSA Morgan. _Great, just what she needed, some smart arsed agent winding her up._

"No. Apparently customer service is not high on their agenda. But never mind, I was just leaving." Seaver stood to leave.

"Whoa . . . hold up . . . have a drink with me." Morgan had hunted her down specifically, he knew what it was like to be in the receiving end of Hotch's temper - _they__'__d all been there at some point._

"Bet you say that to all the ladies," she smiled, trying to sidestep the broad agent currently blocking her escape. She was not in the mood for company.

"Look, I know the reputation I've got but, hand on heart, it's the offer of a drink and nothing more. No matter how disappointing that may be," he assured, flashing his million dollar smile.

Seaver looked at the ground. She'd come out to drown her sorrows and rid her mind of the mistakes she'd made, not wallow in them. Shrugging her shoulders she agreed to one beer. Within minutes Morgan had the drinks and was taking them over to a quiet booth. She wanted to hate him for the way he demanded attention without ever asking, but she couldn't help but admire his effortless control.

As they sat, Morgan passed the bottle over. "For the record you weren't the first to screw up on the job; it's happened to us all. Also the chances are it won't be the last time either. Little piece of advice, learn from it and move on."

Seaver snorted. "Just like that," she snapped her fingers.

Morgan shook his head slowly, taking a gulp of his beer. _Oh Hotch had gone to town on her. _

"Look kid, without fail, every one of us on that team has at some point ended up in that office being torn off a strip or two; happens to the best of us." There was that smile again.

Seaver relaxed a little each time he gave that grin. She wanted to trust him, to have someone to talk to, but right now she also wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and never come out. She physically cringed at the thought of the other cadets' reactions when they found out. They'd been harsh enough at her getting pulled out of class to go and help 'the hot shots', mocking that they would no longer be good enough for her. Now they would tease her about failing in the big bad world. If she wasn't quite so stubborn she'd go back and pack now.

"What you thinking?" Morgan had been watching her intently, seeing her mind whirl.

"You really want to know?"

Derek nodded once, than gave a slight raise of his eyebrows to indicate she should carry on.

"The honest answer…well right now was whether I bother to return to the academy and face my so called smart arsed friends and co-trainees. Before you arrived I was debriefing myself following the amazing cock-up I made of the case. So take your pick, neither are going to be the best of conversation starters."

"You're not seriously gonna give up?"

Ashley shrugged. She didn't give up that easily but right now she could do without the hassle.

"No," she started, "but I'm not looking forward to walking back into class. There are a couple of guys who will not let me live this down."

"Get use to it, there's guys like me everywhere. Just ask Reid; he gets it from me all the time."

"Really? Sure no-one's noticed," she deadpanned.

"I'm not that bad am I?" Derek said trying to look vaguely innocent.

Ashley had to laugh. "You're a close knit team," it was more of a statement then a question.

"You could say that, losing JJ a few months back has been a real blow to us all; hit Reid and Garcia really hard. We're a family, we can tell each other anything. A kinda dysfunctional family when you think about it but we're there for each other, at work and after hours - the same extends to you."

"Thanks, but by this time next week you'll be investigating some serial killer in the middle of nowhere and you'll have forgotten who the annoying cadet who nearly got herself killed was."

Derek slowly raised one eyebrow. "Reid will remind us."

"What?"

"He's got an eidetic memory, did you think I meant something else?" he paused. "Come to think of it the kid has got a thing for blondes."

Ashley rolled her eyes and slowly shook her head. "You want another beer?"

"Thought you were in a rush to leave earlier?"

Ashley got up and made her way to the bar. Her mood was lifting, partly she knew due to the beer, but partly due to Morgan's way of putting things into perspective.

Placing the bottles on the table, Ashley sat back down.

"What made you join the FBI?"

"You like your light-hearted conversations, don't you? Never anything too heavy," Derek's sarcasm was blatant.

"Sorry," she was quick to apologise, "none of my business."

"It's a long story," Derek took a swig of beer, "the shortened version involves an inspirational father."

Ashley couldn't stop the snort escaping from her. "Fathers have a lot to answer for."

The eyebrow thing again.

"My father was a cop. When I was ten, I saw my father get shot. His killer was never caught. I struggled to deal with it; I took the wrong path for a while. Things happened." Derek decided to gloss over some details. "I sorted myself out. Did what I needed to do to get to college and from there into the force myself. Guess I've been trying to prove myself to him from that point on. I want him to be proud of me, of what I've achieved."

It was Ashley's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I obviously don't know your father, but surely he must be proud of you. Bet your mom is too."

"Yes, but equally worried sick I'll end up in an early grave like him. She knows me well…too well. She knows I'm impulsive, head-strong and over-protective of those around me; that I take risks and don't always follow procedure. She once told me that she holds her breath each time the phone rings, and doesn't breath again until she's answered it, just in case it's 'that call'. I guess that was when I reigned myself in a little. The thought of putting my mom through that again…" Derek shook his head, not needing to finish the sentence.

"Have any of the team got normal family backgrounds?"

"We all have something in our past that motivates us." Derek decided to push, "I guess for you it's your father too."

"Yeah," another gulp of beer, "but I'm not out to impress mine. I have every letter his has written to me from the day he was arrested. I haven't read a single one. I can't. I don't want anything to do with him. I hate him and everything he has done." More beer. "Yet I love him; he's my dad."

"Maybe one day they'll give you the answers you need."

"I thought that if I got into the FBI, if I did what you guys do, I could somehow make up for what my dad has done. You know balance the scales? That sounds so stupid now I'm saying it out loud."

"It's not stupid, but you can't carry your father sins on your shoulders. You have a right to your own life."

"Do I? I've had to take my mother's maiden name; even still it doesn't take long for someone to work out who I am."

"You're you. Bright, articulate and determined. You have got to do this job for yourself. Whatever the original motivation is, you've got to do this because you want to. If not you might as well pack that bag now."

"But you just said you do this because of you father," Ashley was confused.

"I started because of him - I still want him to be proud of me, but I don't let it consume me. My father is always in my mind, but as part of the whole picture that is Derek Morgan, I'm not a mini version of my dad." _This girl had some things to learn, _Derek wondered if he was as bad when he started."You're never going to settle the score for what your father did; if you get hung up on this now, you'll be constantly battling with personal failure."

Ashley thought about what he said as she picked at the label on the now empty Bud bottle.

"Hotch made it clear my chances in the BAU are over," her voice barely more than a whisper.

Derek nodded, a smile creeping across his lips. "Don't give up; anything is possible," he winked knowingly.

Ashley's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying anything is possible," he repeated, finishing his beer. "I'm going to make a move now; I'm meeting Garcia, but please promise me you won't give up. Make sure we don't forget who you are."

As Derek stood he flashed that killer smile. Ashley smiled back nervously. He had given her a lot to think about. May be she could prove she had learnt from her mistakes.

"**Success seems to be connected with action. Successful people keep moving. They make mistakes, but they don't quit.****"**

**Conrad Hilton**

. . . . . . . .


End file.
